


The quality of light

by Elesianne



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, Darkening of Valinor, Developing Relationship, F/M, Family, First Age, Flight of the Noldor, Friendship, Mild Sexual Content, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Slow Burn, The Noldor, The Vanyar, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 05:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17975585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elesianne/pseuds/Elesianne
Summary: 'How does one know when love is enough, and when love is wise?' she asks him.The candles next to her, the only ones in the dark room, create a golden halo around her. They cast her fairness in a new kind of light, showing him that there is still beauty in the world thought the light of the Trees is dimmed for ever.My take on Amárië and Finrod's story, told in little pieces.The 'Chose not to warn' tag is because Finrod dies and then gets better, as is canon. There is also some violence.





	1. Prologue: A death in darkness

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this because I'm a bit stuck on _Your spirit calling out to mine_. I'm hoping to get unstuck soon, though.
> 
> Though I edited all of this recently, some of it was written 2.5 years ago and is somewhat different from my newer fics.
> 
> This fic does not share 'a universe' with my other fics. Some things are different than they are in e.g. my Fëanorian marriages series. Finrod and his siblings have smaller age differences, for one thing. And there are more badly-controlled POV shifts.
> 
> Quenya names of the characters are used for the most part. I have compiled a list of them [here]().

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short prologue. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow, then the next one probably within a week.
> 
> There is description of injuries, blood and death in this chapter. There will be very little violence in the rest of the fic.

**Tol-in-Gaurhoth, autumn of 465 First Age**

It is too dark to see much, and the blood dripping into his eyes stings steals the last of his vision. Findaráto can hardly hear anything besides the frantic thrumming of his own pulse in his ears, but he can feel that the beast has stopped writhing and its yellowish eyes no longer gleam in the dark. He realises with a savage sense of satisfaction that the werewolf is finally dead.

As he staggers back from the stinking carcass he realises that he is dead, too, or will be as soon as not to make any difference. Beren struggles to reach his side and help him sit down, but he falls on to the filthy floor nevertheless. Beren tries to help, ripping what remains of his shirt to make bandages and to staunch the flow of the blood from the worst of the cuts and bites. There are far too many, though, where Findaráto's blood flows freely, including a vicious bite in his chest. His left arm is one limp, bloody mess, and he can't feel much of his body as the pain holds him in an iron grip.

Every moment it is getting more difficult to keep his eyes open, but he struggles to do so anyway. He knows that when he closes them, the next time they open he will see the Halls.

Beren talks to Findaráto, telling him to hold on, telling him to look at him, to talk to him. Findaráto tells him, gasping for breath, that there is no need to hold on. This is his time to let go and go to the long rest that is deemed for him. He says farewell to Beren and speaks no more.

An unwelcome thought crosses his mind while he bleeds out: the indignity of dying in what was once his own dungeon, having built this fortress centuries ago to guard against the forces of Morgoth. Now those forces have taken over it and defeated him, too. But his oath he was able to fulfil, at least, and now he is free to spend his last moments in what peace the pain affords him, doing as he wishes. He wishes to think of Amarië, not of his bitter failures. There will be time enough for that in Mandos.

He stares up to the darkness that obfuscates everything around him, but he sees light and Amarië. Amarië in the golden light that has, in his eyes, always surrounded her. He tries to see her smile – the gentle, barely there smile that he fell in love with before understood what love was – but this vision of Amarië that lights up the dark dungeon won't smile for him. She looks at him in solemnity and sorrow. There is all the love in the world in her eyes; why would there not be, when she is an apparition he has conjured to console himself in his pain.

Findaráto says goodbye to her for the second time, and closes his eyes. He opens them again in a new darkness. The quality of light is different, and it is calmer, painless.


	2. Children of light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amarië's childhood and first meeting with Findárato.

**Many years earlier, during the Years of the Trees, in the blessed time of Aman**

Amarië grew up in a house filled with light and love, like all children who were born in the time before the darkness arrived in the Blessed Realm. Her family's house was also always filled with music, for her father Elemmírë was a composer and taught a love for song and melody to all his children. Of Elemmírë's four children, only one inherited in full his gift for music, but all learned to sing and play at least competently, and they grew up thinking music a part of life just like food and water and rest.

When the children were young, they often played together, all four of them with their father while their mother with her swift, skilled hands worked on weaving or embroidery. Later it became clear that Nýarië, the eldest, preferred studying lore to studying music, but even when she retreated to her own room to write and read in peace, she let her door open so she could enjoy the music drifting in from another room. Thornandil, the elder of the family's two sons, realised early that he would rather make instruments than just play them liked bringing his work to where his family members were playing even though his mother would complain of the wood shavings on the floor.

But Amarië and Veryalindon, the second oldest and the youngest, were eager pupils to their father. Amarië's heart had joy in music, especially in joining her voice with others. Veryalindon had the greater talent but also an impatience which at times made his throw down his instrument and storm out. While he was still a child he started composing his own music, and his songs were strange, innovative, not serene as elven music usually was. Some thought they were disturbing, or barely more than noise. Veryalindon's family sought to understand his music that was as fierce as he was.

Amarië's mother Laurelanyë taught them manners and conduct becoming of Vanyar children who were part of King Ingwë's court. Amarië, though doing her best to learn all that both of her parents taught, listened to all her mother's teachings but sometimes quietly decided to do otherwise anyway. She saw no point in rebellion, but also no point in doing things she didn't believe in.

She also quickly learned that her strategy worked quite satisfactorily most of the time, which gave her no incentive to stop quietly defying her mother.

She was closer with her father though, and as she grew she grew only closer with him still. Though her gift for music was not nearly as great as her father's or her youngest brother's, Elemmírë delighted in teaching her in the musical arts, and he encouraged her childish attempts at weaving words and setting them to his music.

*

In the beginning –

Findaráto is one of the friends she makes because she does things she isn't quite supposed to. They first meet as children, when he is visiting his grandmother Indis's family with his siblings. Arafinwë's children get a frosty welcome from some of the Vanyar children, some of whom are their second cousins but do not appreciate being told to play with these not-very-Vanyar children who visit just rarely enough that they stay strangers.

Curiosity draws Amarië to them. She drags her reluctant younger brothers behind her and offers to show Findaráto and his siblings around the newly constructed large garden where children of people staying at Ingwë's court have been deposited to spend the day playing together.

At Amarië's offer, little Artanis who is barely old enough to be let out of her mother's sight glares at the unknown girl fiercely while clinging to her eldest brother's hand. Angaráto and Aikanáro, almost the same height and of similar looks but easily told apart because of Aikanáro's hair that sticks every which way as it always will, stare at her with slight suspicion.

But Findaráto takes her hand, bows over it and with great formality and grace declares that they will be delighted to see the garden and are grateful for her offer to show it. Amarië is slightly bemused by this formality from a boy who is not much older than herself but she imitates his gracefulness and formality when she tells him that it will be her pleasure.

She leads them around the garden and the two groups of siblings end up spending hours together. Amarië's brothers get past their shyness and condescend to splash in a fountain with Angaráto and Aikanáro, and all four enjoy themselves tremendously. Amarië, Findaráto and Artanis sit on the edge of the fountain soaking their bare feet in the warm water. Amarië makes a crown of flowers for the beautiful hair of little Artanis who is sat between the two older children. The girls had gathered the flowers together on the way to the fountain, and Amarië, a lover of things that grow, had taught Artanis the names of the flowers as they picked.

Findaráto looks at Amarië's slender fingers that are swiftly twining together flowers for his little sister who is getting sleepy as she leans against him, and he thinks, oddly, that the light of Laurelin seems to form a golden haze around Amarië. It must be just her hair – paler than that of most of the Vanyar, almost white but a warm white, a gold-tinted white – reflecting the golden light.

It is peculiar that someone's hair, however light, should change the quality of light.

'Your hair is remarkable', he tells her.

Amarië ducks her head. 'It is washed out compared to everyone else.'

'It is remarkable', he repeats, a little frown between his eyes as if he is thinking of something that puzzles him, but smiling.

She dares to smile back.

Later when she tells her parents about the encounter she tells them that Findaráto and his siblings are very nice children, and she is glad to have got to know them.

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://elesianne.tumblr.com/).


End file.
